Caitlyn and Professor

Walking from her car to her professor's house Caitlyn was seized by a feeling of foreboding. She considered going home at that moment and later replying to his original email that, although she was terribly sorry, there'd been an emergency and could they please reschedule? But, God, that email. Although it did not allude to what the meeting concerned its message was clear: We need to meet regarding a matter of grave importance and it must be tonight. Caitlyn's only reply--before she'd given it much, if any, consideration--was that she would be at his house at the specified time.

She had obsessed over this meeting throughout the day pondering its implications. Had any of her friends ever been summoned to a professor's home in this way?

"Any plans for tonight?" Julie had asked over lunch.

"I think I'm just gonna stay in and do some studying," Caitlyn said with an air of distraction.

Her friend could sense that something was off, but chalked it up to Caitlyn's obsessive attitude toward her studies. It was close to the end of the semester and, really, close to the end of Caitlyn's graduate work. Her distance seemed reasonable given the circumstances. Julie made the suggestion that the two study together, but the idea was quickly shot down and Caitlyn abruptly ended their lunch with an apology explaining that she really had to get home to study.

At her apartment she struggled over what she might wear changing in and out of various outfits as garments piled on a chair. In the end she decided on a short skirt with black nylons, high heels and a button-down shirt that was a bit small and unbuttoned an extra button thereby drawing attention to her rather large breasts. She'd caught the professor undressing her with his eyes on more than one occasion and decided it couldn't hurt to use whatever leverage she might have.

However, dressed that way at the doorstep of her professor she suddenly felt ridiculous. On the street she noticed an older couple on a walk. The woman seemed to motion in her direction and murmur something disapproving to the man. Really there was no going back. Professor Horn was known for his unforgiving reputation and the consequences of letting him down did not seem promising. After ringing the bell she waited for several minutes. Without too much hesitation she decided that he must not have been home She breathed a heavy sigh of relief as she turned to leave and as the door swung open. Holding it stood the professor. He was still dressed in his usual work attire: grey slacks, a buttoned down shirt and loosened tie. He held a pipe she'd never seen prior and regarded her for a brief moment as he drew on the pipe making no attempt to hide his lecherous sizing up of her figure and revealing outfit. He let pass a quick smirk before replacing it with an expression of seriousness. "Please come in, Ms. Logan."

Her attempts at small talk went ignored as the professor led her to the living room. "Have a seat," he said blowing a plume of smoke in her face. She chose a sofa in the middle of the room. "Can I offer you a drink? I only just now returned from a lecture and could use one myself." The professor's tone seemed to turn friendly. Caitlyn found this encouraging and accepted the offer so as to come across as agreeable.

"I'll have whatever you're having," she said a little too cheery.

"Very well," the professor said as he started for the kitchen. "And please make yourself comfortable."

Caitlyn took in the orderly living room looking for anything that might reveal something of a personal life. A wife? A family? In fact there were no photographs at all. Just books and stacks of folders and papers. The decor was tasteful, but only seemed to reveal a life of ivory tower academia.

"Hope you enjoy bourbon."

Caitlyn's body jerked as the professor seemed to reappear from nowhere. "Oh, love it." She managed, although she couldn't be sure if she'd ever tasted the stuff. He handed her the glass and she took a small sip. The brown liquid burned her throat as it trailed its way down. She suppressed the urge to wince.

"That's an eighteen year old Elijah Craig."

Caitlyn nodded in appreciation.

There was a moment of silence as the professor took a long look at Caitlyn. Finally, sensing her discomfort he spoke. "Ms. Logan, do you have any idea why I've asked you here tonight?"

"No, sir"

The professor took a deep breath, stood and approached a shelf containing some books and binders. He selected a green book and handed it to Caitlyn. "Look familiar?"

Caitlyn examined the cover. A Theory of Justice, John Rawls. She'd never read it, but the author's name felt familiar. Perhaps someone she'd read in a philosophy class at one time. "I don't think I know it," she said as if eager for the professor to enlighten her.

He gave a look of surprise. "But Ms. Logan, John Rawls is the most preeminent scholar in the field of political philosophy! His writings have impacted the lives of untold numbers! In forty years his work has not been equaled!"

Caitlyn watched her professor admiringly as he lectured her on the subject and took another sip from her drink this time really needing it.

Caitlyn suddenly felt much younger than her twenty-five years as if she were back in the fifth grade being ordered to read for the class. Her voice cracked and quivered as she began. "The most striking feature of the uti-"

"Louder please," the professor interrupted.

She began again, this time louder as instructed. "The most striking feature of the utilitarian view of justice is that it does not matter, except indirectly, how this sum of satisfactions is distributed among individuals..." And it was at that moment that it dawned on Caitlyn where it was she'd seen those words as well as why it was that Professor Horn had asked her to meet with him that night.

"Ms. Logan,"--he was irritated now--"you stopped reading. I did not ask you to stop. Please, again, from the beginning."

Her heart pounding in her chest, Caitlyn once again started reading in a clear, audible voice. "The striking feature of the utilitarian view of justice is that it does not matter, except indirectly, how this sum of satisfactions is distributed among individuals any more than it matters, except indirectly, how one man distributes his satisfactions over time. The correct distribution in either case is that which yields the maximum fulfillment." With this final phrase Caitlyn looked up noticing the professor reciting the words along with her. He seemed lost in the words like a lover of classical music lost in a composition of Mozart or Beethoven.

"You may stop reading now, Ms. Logan."

Caitlyn's eyes were frozen on the professor, the knowledge that her academic career was all but finished slowly sinking in."Ms. Logan, I must've read that book you're holding cover-to-cover at least ten times. Rawls's critique of utilitarianism is so well known it's hard to imagine a professor of philosophy in the country who would fail to recognize your plagiarism."

Caitlyn racked her brain trying to remember from where she could've pulled the section. The night before the assignment was due she'd stayed up trying to piece together twenty pages of original thought on the subject of logic and reason as applied to social welfare. With scarcely enough adequate research she'd tried to put together a coherent argument she'd pulled from various web-sites. The academic pressure had seemed impossible and she had been desperate for something that would impress Professor Horn enough to merit an A. How could she have been so stupid?

The professor stood and began to pace the room twirling the ice cube in his drink as Caitlyn stared at the floor dejected. "Ms. Logan, as I'm sure you're well aware, this university takes plagiarism very very seriously." He paused. "Do you know what the consequences are for plagiarism?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ms. Logan, what are the consequences for plagiarism?" He was treating as he might a child who'd misbehaved.

"Expulsion." She did her best to hold back the tears that filled her eyes.

"That's correct, sadly." He was mocking her. "In addition, all the work you've done hitherto is to be rescinded. It's really quite hard to imagine much of a future for you at that point." The professor held Caitlyn's attention completely. The walls seemed to close in around her. "Ms. Logan, I'm curious, how are you doing in your other course work?"

Whereas in the past she'd always felt so proud of her academic achievements she now felt ashamed to say it. "Straight As," she managed.

"Straight As. Yes. I've spoken to the other faculty. They seem to think that you're a brilliant young lady." Again, the mocking tone. "And that you have a very bright future to look forward to." She hated him at that moment intensely. "Tell me, how are you doing in my class...with the exception of this incident, of course?"

"I believe I have a B+, sir."

"That might be putting it a bit generously. But, yes, I figure if you'd managed an A with this paper it would've put you over the top; you would've eked out an A in my class thereby achieving straight As for your entire three years in this program and, voila, you graduate with honors and distinctions making mommy and daddy oh so proud. Was that what you had in mind?"

Caitlyn could not manage a response as tears began to spill from her eyes.

"Unfortunately, with me you have to earn that A." He paused to take another sip of his drink. "Of course, you could still earn it," he said almost to himself.

"Sir?" Caitlyn tried to decipher his meaning.

"Ms. Logan, we find ourselves in a curious position. I assume the only people who've seen this...work you've turned in are you and myself."

Caitlyn nodded as she focused intently on the professor.

"My T.A. assisted with grading the majority of the class's papers, but somehow yours was only seen by me."

It began to dawn on Caitlyn that the professor was suggesting the impossible, that all the damage that had been done could somehow be undone. "Sir, what do I have to do? How can I earn it?"

"I'm suggesting an arrangement, Ms. Logan, a rather utilitarian arrangement." Caitlyn could feel herself turning flushed and her nipples become erect. "You see, Ms. Logan, I have something that could give you great satisfaction. And you certainly have something that could satisfy me." The professor was now holding Caitlyn by the chin. "And as you know from utilitarianism the correct distribution is that which yields the maximum fulfillment." The professor spoke these last words slowly, undoing her buttons one by one as he spoke each word until she was totally exposed.

As her breath quickened Caitlyn looked into the eyes of her professor standing before her completely at his mercy. A long moment passed as the two stared at each other in silence. Finally Caitlyn summoned her courage, cleared her throat and spoke: "What can I do for your satisfaction, sir?"

The professor smiled broadly. "Exactly as I instruct you," he said as he moved himself to the chair facing Caitlyn. He sat back gazing at his compromised student. "You see, if you want to earn an A in my class, you're really going to have to impress me which means you'll have to submit to each and every one of my wishes. Is that understood, Ms. Logan?"

"Yes, sir." Caitlyn felt her sex tingle.

"Of course, I'll also have to punish your for your plagiarism." His eyes brightened with excitement. "It wouldn't be ethical if I didn't discipline you for your actions."

"Yes, sir."

"Stand up, Ms. Logan."

"Yes, sir." She did as instructed.

"Remove your shirt." His voice even but firm.

She tossed her shirt to the chair.

The professor removed his cock from his fly and began stroking himself. He looked her up and down. "Show them to me."

Caitlyn slowly removed the straps of her bra one shoulder at a time and carefully tucked the bra under her heavy breasts.

"Now don't move. Be perfectly still. Like a statue."

Caitlyn stood poised with her hands behind her back, her legs slightly crossed and watched with great interest as her professor stroked his already hard cock.

"Feel your tits." Caitlyn obeyed enjoying her body as the professor provided various other demands. "Squeeze them together. Now let go. Move your shoulders back and forth...yes...very nice. Don't stop. Now put two fingers in your mouth and suck them like a cock." Caitlyn sucked and tongued her fingers as seductively as she could clearly having a strong impact on her professor.

"Come closer to me," he said almost lovingly. Caitlyn slowly made her way toward him. "Closer," he beckoned until she stood between his parted legs. "Now, on your knees. I want you to learn to suck cock like a good little slut." She placed herself on her knees and followed his command putting just the tip of his cock between her lips. "That's it...that's a good student. Now while you suck I want you to stroke it softly...faster now. There you go. Good. Look at me while you suck it." She struggled to follow his instructions precisely though her head was spinning from enjoyment. "Now take it out of your mouth and masturbate me." It continued like that, the professor alternately instructing Caitlyn to suck and then masturbate him always reminding her to look into his eyes as she performed for him. "Don't even think of stopping! We have all the time in the world and I feel like enjoying myself tonight."

Caitlyn only noticed that the professor was holding her by the hair when his grip tightened and he pulled her away from his cock. "Come on, get up on your feet. It's time for your punishment." Caitlyn whined at hearing this news. The professor stood and took Caitlyn by the hair out of the living room to a bedroom.

"Now, on your knees and elbows," he instructed motioning toward the bed.

Caitlyn felt a rush of disorientation as she took in her new surroundings. She heard a piano concerto playing from some unidentifiable source. The bed was a neatly made king. On a shelving unit among more books were framed photographs of the professor with a woman. Who was she? His wife? And where was she that evening? Caitlyn looked to her professor refocusing her attention on the task at hand and placed herself on the bed on hands and knees. Again, the professor grabbed her by the hair, only harder this time and gave her a sharp slap to the right cheek. "ELBOWS!" he shouted into her face, "I said knees and ELBOWS!" He was exasperated. "Are you trying to get a C, Ms. Logan? Or maybe I should just send you home right now and pay a little visit to the dean of student affairs tomorrow morning."

"NO!" She protested like a child.

"No what?" Again, another slap this time to the other cheek.

"No, sir." She composed herself. "Sorry, sir. I'll do better. I promise." She adjusted her arms so that her elbows bore her weight and she folded her hands as though in prayer.

"Good." He lifted her skirt to reveal her ass snugly held in the nylon stockings. As he caressed her he uttered words of approval. "Very nice, indeed." Instinctively, she began to move for him in a rocking pattern. He grabbed both cheeks forcefully and buried his face in between. Then, to Caitlyn's surprise, he violently ripped a gaping hole in the stockings to reveal her pale cheeks separated only by a tiny thong. A grown of pleasure escaped from Caitlyn. She could feel him now probing her asshole with his tongue. He was also moaning now as if eating something delicious. He then slipped a finger into her pussy as he continued to tongue her asshole. "Are you ready for your punishment now, Ms. Logan?"

"But," she whined, not wanting him to stop. She then remembered the consequences for disobedience. "Yes, Professor Horn," she gasped. Calling him by his title helped her remember what was at stake for her.

The professor stepped back for a moment regaining his composure. "Good." He stroked his beard and examined her from different angles. "Now I have to leave you on your own for a spell, but I'm not sure if I can trust you not to move."

"You can trust me, Professor."

"Can I? I just don't know, Ms. Logan. Your record in the trust department thus far has not been very impressive."

"I'll be good, Professor. I promise."

"Ok. Consider this practice. I'll leave this room--of course, I'll not say for how long--and you see if you can keep still and not go snooping around where you don't belong. Personally, I don't think you have it in you. So let's give it a try. And remember, if I catch you moving it'll only make your punishment that much more severe, understood, Ms. Logan?"

"Yes, Professor. You can trust me." The professor laughed at this notion as he left Caitlyn alone in the bedroom.

How long Caitlyn remained in that position she could not say. She became acutely aware of her discomfort as blood rushed to her face and her arms became sore. She wondered if she would be able to sustain the position until the professor's return. The worse torture, however, was how he'd abandoned her just as her pussy was so wet she almost couldn't bare it. She had a strong desire to touch herself while she awaited his return, but she was successfully able to resist this urge.

And it's a good thing she did since he returned precisely at the moment when she truly had to restrain herself from herself. "I must say, color me impressed, Ms. Logan. Did you really manage to hold perfectly still that entire time?"

"Yes, Professor," she said with pride.

"You wouldn't be trying to pull one over on me again, now would you, Ms. Logan?"

"No, sir." She saw he was holding a wood paddle. A shudder of fear passed through her.

"I think you're lying."

"No, Professor. Honest, I swear I didn't move an inch." But her protests only seemed to confirm the professor's suspicions.

"Oh little Ms. Logan, don't you realize that with every lie you're only compounding your problems?" he said with mock sympathy. "I'd only planned on paddling you ten times, but now it looks like we're going to have double that. Shame."

God, he was a sadistic fucker. But there was nothing Caitlyn could do. There could be no protest. She had to accept her punishment willingly.

The professor then paced around the bed tapping his hand with the paddle. "I must admit, if I'd lived in an earlier time I surely would have been the headmaster at some all-girls school. I just so love to punish girls for misbehaving." For this Caitlyn could have no doubt. "So here's how this will go, Ms. Logan. Like I said, twenty paddles to your lovely ass. But since I get so excited I'm going to require your assistance to keep track. Think you can handle that? Think you can you manage to count to twenty?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl. But you'll have to use a clear loud voice. If I don't hear you then I'll surely lose track and we'll just have to start right from the beginning."

"Yes, sir."

"Alright then. Let's get started."

The professor got into position like a baseball player stepping up to the plate. Caitlyn braced herself. Within seconds she felt the first smack across both cheeks accompanied with a rush of shooting pain.

"ONE" she cried. She could not imagine how she would endure nineteen more.

The professor then caressed the inflamed skin. "Very nice," he said admiring his work. He reached for his drink that he'd refilled for himself and took a sip. Then came the second smack this time below her ass on the back of her right thigh.

She squeezed her eyes tight as tears trickled through. "TWO"

With each smack of the paddle it become increasingly more difficult for Caitlyn to vocalize the numbers. By the time they reached number ten Caitlyn could only scream the number or say nothing at all. "Are you shouting at me, Ms. Logan?" the professor shouted back.